Scryer
by Articulatemis
Summary: An epic tale of two young blood elves who set off on their very first journey into Outland, to rejoin their beloved Prince Kael'thas Sunstrider. But after reaching their destination, they discover the truth about the paradise that was promised to them.
1. Chapter 1

_**World of Warcraft: Scryer**_

**Chapter 1**

"Dar'Khan Drathir is dead!" Deafening cheers arose at the town crier's announcement in the center of Silvermoon's bazaar district. "The enemy of all Blood Elves is vanquished forever!" he continued, standing amidst a company of Blood Knights. "No longer will the traitor plague our beautiful homeland with his filth and depravity! No longer will the Scourge block our path to the south! All glory to the Sin'dorei!"

At this, one of the Blood Knight attendants emptied the contents of his burlap sack and a severed head plopped down onto the raised, disc-shaped platform on which they were standing. The head was of a Blood Elf, though pale and gaunt beyond the norm and his features were horribly disfigured, showing clearly that he died in terrible agony.

"See now the head of the enemy, who may never again return to beleaguer the children of the blood!" the town crier shouted, but his voice was drowned out in the exultant roaring of his audience. High above, the sun blazed furiously, as though it were a natural testimony of the Blood Elves' victory, yet the temperature was tolerable with the wind blowing from the east creating a gentle breeze for the citizenry of Silvermoon City, even though its walls were high, and proud.

Straining to raise his voice above the din of the gathered crowd, the town crier at last concluded his speech by shouting, "Let it be known that there will never be an obstacle that we as a people cannot overcome! This important victory has proven our worth to the Horde, and even now our ambassadors travel far and wide granting us access to these steadfast allies. When Kael'thas returns, he shall see the glory of Quel'Thalas restored!"

There was murmuring at the mention of the Horde in certain social circles of the assembly, for many scoffed at the notion of having to prove their worth to anybody, least of all to the barbarous races of the western continent of Kalimdor. Yet overall, the rapturous spirit of the people of Silvermoon City did not diminish, and the cheering only grew louder, echoing throughout the streets, and they were on the whole overjoyed, especially when Prince Kael'thas was referenced.

There were at least two blood elves however, that did not wholly partake in the celebration, even as they stood in the streets observing the festivities. Foster brother and sister they were, as well as apprentice magisters; to them a sense of foreboding overshadowed this grand victory.

Ramael, the brother, was the elder of the two siblings by less than a year, although the both of them had only recently reached full adulthood. He was broad and somewhat tall for a Blood Elf, and possessed long black hair that flowed gracefully down past his shoulders, which covered his ample forehead and the better part of his face. His sister Rhynnian had a full-figured body, which she was often made fun of for throughout childhood, though she would easily be considered slim by the standards of most other races. Her deep auburn hair was cut slightly shorter than Ramael's, reaching both shoulders evenly, and was side-parted to the right. The two of them shared a rather typical look, perhaps even considered unremarkable compared to the sharp facial features of the rest of their kind, but most would agree that both were nonetheless, pleasant to look at.

At this moment however, they were no doubt an odd sight to behold among the other revelers in the bazaar, staring at the center fountain and sharing wary half-smiles that bespoke of nervous worry, as if disaster would strike at any moment amid the celebrations. In a rather somber manner, Rhynnian turned to her brother and spoke first. "I wonder what all of this even means for us."

Ramael seemingly perked up at that and began shouting, "Why dear sister, it means the restoration of the glory of Silvermoon! The reclamation of the lands that is our birthright, and an end to the advances of our dreaded enemy! Hoorah!" That last bit he hooted at the surrounding crowd, who reciprocated in turn with their cheers or indecipherable shouts of joy, as Rhynnian stood by sighing with a hand on her drooped forehead.

Turning back to his sister Ramael whispered, "I have no idea what it means either. Perhaps I am too young to understand it, or perhaps it is merely drivel propagated by our beloved leaders to keep us satisfied and in line. Either way, I feel as if there is nothing for us here."

Rhynnian smiled at her brother. "Right then. Well, what are we to do about it?" Just then, an unlikely source arrived with the answer.

Lumbering along the outskirts of the Bazaar district, much to the dismay of the nearby vendors, an arcane guardian forged of metal and magic made its presence known by causing the ground to tremble with its heavy footfalls, and emitting a booming, pre-recorded message in the voice of an unknown Blood Elf.

"Citizens of Silvermoon! Hearken to me! For it is with great pleasure that I announce the regent lord Lor'themar Theron's decision to allow pilgrimages into Outland, where our beloved leader Prince Kael'thas has promised an everlasting paradise! With Dar'Khan Drathir's demise and our inevitable entry into the ranks of the Horde, the path is now clear to the Dark Portal. The first group of pilgrims will be departing under heavy guard by the end of the week. If you wish to take part, you must speak with Grand Magister Rommath, located in the Sunfury Spire as soon as possible. Safe travels, and may the sun guide you!"

Rhynnian gave her brother a long expectant look, while he stared blankly at the arcane guardian wandering away and repeating the same message. After a brief moment of silence he said, "Well, I suppose this victory means more to us than I initially thought."

His sister gave him a wry smile. "Does this mean we're about to embark on our first adventure?"

Ramael chuckled. "Adventure? More like a long stroll across the continent into lazy bliss, but I'd do anything to get out of this place. Let us go give Rommath a little visit."

He began to head off, but his sister reached for his arm. "Wait. We should consult with father first, or at least see if he's all right. He said he would return to Fairbreeze Village if he survived the conflict in the Ghostlands. Now that Dar'Khan is dead, I'm certain he's waiting for us there."

Ramael gave a long sigh, but offered no resistance. "Of course, dear sister, but we should hurry. I'd hate to risk losing such an opportunity." And with that, they headed into the Eversong Woods, away from the city and towards a small village to the south, where a weary Blood Elf was undoubtedly sitting patiently, and awaiting the arrival of his two adopted children.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The pair had a hard time traversing the crowded streets out of the bazaar district, but staying close together they at last made their way to the main entrance of the city, known as the Shepherd's Gate. Blood Knight guardians stood watch attentively on either side of the gate, dressed in their uniform regalia of mail hauberk and leggings overlapped by a tight-fitted and sleeveless crimson robe adorned with flowing symbols and elegant patterns. In one hand they held an uncharacteristically thin shield as tall as the guards themselves, and in the other a double-bladed sword that was undoubtedly as keen as it looked. One of the guards gave Ramael and Rhynnian a suspicious look, but did not actually proceed to hinder them as they passed by.

The two of them said nothing until they completely cleared the gate and were walking well within Eversong Woods, heading west.

"Blood Knights. They must think they own the city and everyone in it. Did you see the look that guard gave us on our way out? As if he was trying to make us feel guilty for having done nothing wrong!" Ramael grumbled to his sister.

"I'm sure that particular guard gives everybody dirty looks dear brother. No need to get upset over such a trivial matter."

"I suppose you're right. I shouldn't even care, now that we're leaving." Ramael conceded. Rhynnian turned to him with a soft smile, but he didn't notice, being so wrapped up in his own thoughts.

They were now crossing the Dead Scar, a desolate path running north from Deatholme in the southern Ghostlands, where the undead Scourge army cut a swath through Quel'thalas leading to the Sunwell during the Third War. No grass grew there, as the dirt upon which they tread was completely black, and here and there, were soot-ridden bones protruding from the ground. The whole area smelled of decayed flesh, a sign that even mighty Silvermoon City had not completely recovered from the devastation wrought by Arthas years ago. The two of them crossed the path in silence, and were listening anxiously to their surroundings. There was nothing, save the soft whispers of the eastern wind blowing. After what seemed like an eternity, which in actuality amounted to ten minutes or so, they reached the other side, and their tense posture became noticeably more relaxed.

Eventually, they reached the point where the road diverged into a northern path and a southern one. The road heading north led to the ruins of Silvermoon, west of the Dead Scar. It constituted the part of the city that was as of yet un-restored from the Scourge invasion, yet recently Blood Elf forces had established a foothold in the old Falconwing Square, and were working to reclaim the ruins wholesale. Ramael and Rhynnian's destination, however, was at the end of the southern path, where Fairebreeze Village and their foster father were.

They saw him even before they had reached the village, lying underneath the golden boughs of a grand oak tree with his eyes shut. If they didn't know any better, they might have mistaken him for a corpse. He was completely still, and sprawled out on the grass, and they could see dirt and dried blood staining his robes. Rhynnian feared the worst, but Ramael knew better. They halted when they stood directly above him. A few seconds passed before Magister Darenis, their foster father and magic instructor said anything.

"It's about time you got here. I've been waiting all morning for the two of you." He opened his eyes and sat up slowly, giving Ramael a stern look. "I imagine it was your sister's good sense that led you to show up at all. Otherwise I'd be waiting quite a while. Isn't that right?"

Ramael responded by shrugging and giving him a dry smirk, which prompted Rhynnian to nudge her brother in the ribs with her elbow. "Ow! Well, I mean uh, it might've slipped my mind. But that's why I always stay close to Rhynnian."

Darenis stood and gave them a tender look. "Well, no matter. You're here now after all. Let's head into the village and discuss things over lunch." He started walking ahead of them even before they had a chance to agree.

Ramael and Rhynnian's foster father was a reputable magister in Silvermoon City, and had taken both of them under his wing when they became orphans from the Third War, as teenagers. Darenis was close friends with Ramael's father, and an acquaintance of Rhynnian's mother and father, both of them magisters who fell before the onslaught of Arthas' s Scourge during the sack of Quel'Thalas. Darenis possessed a rather rugged face, though clean-shaven, with a broad chin and sharp nose. His dark red hair was similar to Ramael's, though parted to the right and slightly upraised in the front, showcasing his entire face.

They reached their destination in a matter of minutes as Darenis had set himself to wait for his children fairly nearby. Fairbreeze Village seemed fairly inconsequential with only a few domed buildings in the ornate and distinct style of the Sin'dorei, but its strategic value had increased tenfold since the Third War, for it was the only Blood Elven settlement west of the Dead Scar. The trio headed towards the largest building in the village where Darenis kept his temporary residence; the inn. Entering the top floor by means of a spiraling ramp, Darenis hastily settled into the closest couch nearby.

"You certainly seem weary father." Rhynnian commented. Darenis simply gazed into the wall ahead of him. "Father?" repeated Rhynnian.

"My apologies dear, its just… I lost many close friends and allies during the attack on Deatholme."

Ramael's eyes grew wide. "Wait, you were the one who killed Dar'Khan?" he asked. The atmosphere in the room grew solemn as Darenis answered.

"There was a whole company of us. Farstriders, Blood Knights, and Magisters all banded together for the attack. Not only that, but our Forsaken allies to the south contributed a fair number of troops for the assault as well. None of us would've made it out alive if not for them. I didn't kill him, personally. But I was there, along with a dozen others who headed into the main ziggurat. I could feel the malice in his dark eyes." He paused.

"What happened next?" Ramael asked, cautiously. After a moment, Darenis continued.

"I recall undead shades materializing out of nowhere when the fight began. We were caught off guard and completely surrounded in that chamber. But, we brought a secret weapon. One of the Blood Knights with us wielded a blade imbued with the energies of the Sunwell and in the ensuing chaos, dealt the killing blow by stabbing him in the chest and incinerating him into ash."

"Wait, if he was burned to ash, how did the town crier reveal his decapitated head to us in the bazaar this morning?" Ramael asked, confounded.

"The Blood Knights wanted something to show for all the blood that we had shed, and made the decision to present a counterfeit head to the masses. We were naturally sworn to secrecy, but seeing as you're my children…" Ramael and Rhynnian both nodded, silently complying with their father's wish of confidence. "Well, what's done is done I suppose. I hope you're both hungry, because I'm about to order a feast?" he concluded.

The two siblings gave one another a look, but said nothing. Darenis, ever observant, caught their exchange and brought his suspicions out into the open. "What's the matter? It looks like something is on your mind."

"Darenis, Rhynnian and I are going to Outland, to join with Kael'thas and his people. When news of your victory against Dar'Khan reached Silvermoon, Lor'themar made the decision to allow pilgrimages to the Dark Portal, and beyond. We plan to be part of the first group of pilgrims to go." Ramael said resolutely.

Darenis stared at the two of them, but he hardly looked surprised, as if he expected this newest development to arise sooner or later. "Very well, do what you will. Though I do not believe you to be ready for this kind of endeavor."

Ramael, prepared for this debate with his father, responded without hesitating, "Experience will have to be the best teacher then, from here on out."

"I see you are determined to carry through with this. All right then, I'll see what I can do to help, come tomorrow morning. I've a number of things I've been meaning to give to the both of you anyways. But first, sit and have lunch with me. I haven't had a good meal since before I was ordered into the Ghostlands." Darenis conceded, as both Ramael and Rhynnian breathed a sigh of relief.


End file.
